


Giving In To The Rising Tide

by AlexNichole



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:04:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexNichole/pseuds/AlexNichole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stay.” One word reverberated around the room, seeming to echo off the walls. It wasn't a question. </p><p>Derek: That was not him, not what he does, those are not the thoughts he has. His blood burned with the urge, and he almost gave in. He couldn't lose Stiles. He wasn't sure why he wanted to keep him but he couldn't lose him. He was tired of losing people. He wanted to keep someone, wanted someone to be his, and wanted someone to WANT to be his. </p><p>Stiles: Stiles couldn't imagine Derek felt safe very often, but maybe, just tonight, he had. He wished that Derek would take his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket and wrap them around him. He wish and wished, but he knew in the back of his mind that he was the only one. Three words threw Stiles over the edge again. Funny, how three words could heal so much that was broken, lift all that had fallen, provide light for all that was in darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving In To The Rising Tide

**Author's Note:**

> So um, I kind of got really over emotional when I watched Episode 11 of Season 2 (the beginning) and it inspired this. In fact, the whole Matt and water and kanima thing really made me emotional. Long story. Anyway, the whole conversation between Stiles and Ms. Morrell inspired this whole work.  
> Oh, and it changes back and forth between Stiles' and Derek's point of view.

This is a conversation that takes place between the characters Stiles and guidance counselor Morrell in the MTV show Teen Wolf :Season 2, Episode 11. It is the inspiration for this work.

Stiles: You know when you're drowning you don't actually inhale until right before you black out? It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's actually kind of peaceful.....I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible’s about to happen.

Ms. Morrell: It's called hyper vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat

Stiles: But it's not just a feeling, though, it's--it's like a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe.

Ms. Morrell: Like you're drowning?

Stiles: Yeah.

Ms. Morrell: So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?  
Stiles: Well, you do anyway. It's a reflex.

Ms. Morrell: But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?

Stiles: Not much time.

Ms. Morrell: But more time to fight your way to the surface?

Stiles: I guess.

Ms. Morrell: More time to be rescued?

Stiles: More time to be in agonizing pain. And did you forget about the part where you feel like you're head's exploding?

Ms. Morrell: If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?

Stiles: And what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then--and it's just hell later on?

Ms. Morrell: Then think about something Winston Churchill once said: ‘if you're going through hell, keep going.’

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek pulled his phone out to answer the 4 texts he’d just gotten from his normally unresponsive pack. Trying to keep teenagers under control made him wish he could get drunk. 

“With Lydia” was Jackson’s simple reply. Probably from his bed while Lydia pretended to be interested. I mean, Derek could tell they loved each other, but he’s pretty sure they fought just to make things interesting.

The rest of the replies were similar. Erica and Boyd were together somewhere, and Isaac was with a girl Aimee, that he’d met a while ago. She’d been pretty okay with the whole werewolf thing, and Derek had only caught them making out once. But that had been his fault; he probably should have been paying attention. He even texted Scott, even though he wasn’t his alpha, just to make sure. He was out with his Mom for dinner, since she’d taken the night off.

Derek hauled himself from the leaves he’d been sitting in. Staring up at his dilapidated house he only sighed. Stars peeked through holes in the wall, and drapes that he’d found blackened and holey but usable, hung like flags in the windows that contained no glass. The house was a shell of what it used to be. A shell of the memories he’d had. Derek hustled up the porch stairs, and collapsed on the rug in the foyer. Laura had bought this rug after leaving Beacon Hills. Right now, it was the only thing he had.  
Lying face down, he rubbed his cheek across the dirty and frayed fabric. He remembered her smile, her laugh, and the way she always seemed to take charge. And then she was gone. She’d left him with this responsibility that he didn’t even know of he wanted. Derek half missed her. The other half resented her. He hated himself for how he thought of his sister, how he got so angry at her death. He just wanted to move on. One tear fell from the corner of his eye. Derek steeled himself; set his jaw, and rolled on his side, curling in on himself he wrapped his arms around his knees. He let one loud sob break through. The rest were silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles sat at his computer, browsing through absolutely nothing of consequence. He still took it upon himself to research as much as he could to help Scott and (even though he’d never say it out loud) Derek. Now, with an alpha pack moving in on them he felt useless, and a little bit frightened. The lack of information was disconcerting, and he could almost feel the water rising around him, the anxiety deepening, and his chest tightening. He swallowed hard, before slamming his computer shut. Staring through the window he studied the stars and couldn’t help but think about his helplessness. 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone; that’s what he was. Sarcasm wouldn’t sway an angry werewolf.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek’s jaw hurt from being clenched so hard. Laying on his back, studying the stars he couldn’t help but think about his helplessness. All the power in the world and he was still alone. Feeling ashamed, he stood up and walked out of the front door. Of all the people he’d tried to contact, there was one he never could bring himself to text. Instead he preferred to just show up.

Stiles was sitting silently on his computer chair when Derek tapped on his window. Stiles had seen him coming but hadn’t moved. His normally twitchy demeanor was subdued, and even though Derek would never say it out loud, it worried him.

“You okay?” He asked gruffly when Stiles finally opened the window for him. The boy just shrugged and readjusted his sweatpants before flopping down on the bed. Derek picked up the dirty magazine that Stiles’ belly flop had sent flying. Holding it only by a corner he wrinkled his nose. “Really?” he asked, almost smiling before flinging the offending magazine across the floor. Stiles shrugged, but Derek recognized the familiar twinkle in the boy’s eye that told him he was smiling on the inside. Derek celebrated the victory. On the inside of course. “Find anything?” Derek asked just to keep the conversation going. He had to fill the awkward silence, and resist the urge to walk across the room and wrap an arm around Stiles’ slim waist. That was not him, not what he does, those are not the thoughts he has. His blood burned with the urge, and he almost gave in. Instead, he settled with settling himself next to the bed, in the computer chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles couldn’t figure out Derek’s proximity, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to reach out and lay a hand on Derek’s blue jeans. Just one knee, just one touch; that’s all he needed to not feel so alone. He shook his head as best he could against the pillow to answer Derek’s question.

“There isn’t really much about alpha packs. Real wolves don’t really do that. There’s no reference points.” Stiles could hear his voice go funny at the end, like he was going to cry. His shoulders felt heavy, even lying down. He wished that Derek would reach out a hand, just graze fingertips over the fabric of his t-shirt, and let him know he was there.  
He heard Derek sigh, but didn’t turn his head to look up at him. Instead he stared at the back of his computer chair, and Derek’s knees on either side of it.

Stiles didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he woke up with a crick in his neck from the way he’d been laying. He startled when he realized that Derek was still there, motionless on his computer chair. It took him a second to see that his eyes were closed, his arms crossed across the back, his head resting heavily upon them. He looked peaceful, and totally asleep. Not the weird half sleep, but actually fully asleep like it was the best thing in the world. Stiles couldn’t imagine Derek felt safe very often, but maybe, just tonight, he had. Stiles pulled the blankets up around himself and curled as close to the side of the bed that Derek was on as he could. After a thought, he pulled his other blanket off himself and threw it across Derek’s shoulders. Derek didn’t flinch, so Stiles figured it was a safe move. Finally feeling like he wasn’t drowning Stiles let his eyes drift closed, lulled to sleep again by the deep breathing of the alpha curled up at his bedside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek woke up the next morning curled on the carpet in Stiles’ room. At some point in the night he’d gotten out of the chair and curled up on the floor. Looking up he saw Stiles, still sleeping, and so close to the edge that Derek thought he might fall. One hand hung down, almost touching Derek’s waist. Light snores and a steady heartbeat filled his ears. He rolled over on his back, pulling the blanket that Stiles had given him closer around his shoulders. He breathed deep, letting the smell of Stiles intoxicate him. That’s what it felt like, being with Stiles too long. It felt like being tipsy. It felt like flying sky high or running through waterfalls. It felt like nothing he’d ever felt before, not even with Kate. He’d never admit this too himself though. Instead he let his subconscious handle it.

Stiles’ hand was about an inch above the small of Derek’s back. His longest finger almost grazed his t-shirt. Derek thought about rising up, just a little, just to see what it felt like. He swallowed his desire, and rolled away from the bed, away from the temptation. Jumping to his feet he threw the blanket back on Stiles, Looking over his shoulder he rethought the throw, and came back from the window to rearrange the blanket so that it covered Stiles, and didn’t smother him. Just as Derek finished and returned to his quick escape, the boy stirred and cracked one eye open.

“Good morning Derek,” he murmured sleepily, “and goodbye.” Derek’s subconscious wished that that last part didn’t have to exist. His conscious wished he could hear the sleepy, sickly sweet, and innocent good morning greeting all the time. Before he could do anything stupid he threw his legs out of the window, nodded at the still drowsy brown eyes that peeked at him from beneath the blanket, and disappeared.

Later, he berated himself for falling asleep in the boy’s room. Things like that were things he avoided. He didn’t get close to people anymore. He couldn’t handle losing anyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles went about the warm summer day much like he did every other day: in his room, with air conditioning and his laptop. Scott stopped by, but since neither of them had any ideas of what to get up to he left soon after. It wasn’t long before Stiles couldn’t sit still any longer. Grabbing his back pack containing all the things he needed for life, he threw himself in his jeep and started driving. He had no goal, but the pressure of shifting and his fingers around the wheel felt like heaven. He thought he passed a familiar black Camaro, but didn’t slow down to look back.

Stiles found himself on old dirt roads in the woods. He used to ride bikes back here, and now the trails were mostly for couples needing some alone time. Parking his jeep he got out and shouldered his back pack. The day had turned out a brisk wind causing Stiles to pull the hood on his red sweater up around his face. Taking a step onto one of the side trails he just walked without direction. Not much caring if he got lost. Or eaten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek caught Stiles scent before he heard him. But after a bit of concentration he could do that too. He leaned up against Stiles jeep, glad that the boy didn’t have any senses that would tell of his presence. Deciding against his better judgment he followed the trail into the woods, not really sure what he was going to do if he caught up.  
After a few minutes he caught sight of the red hoodie that housed the one weakness Derek had. Pulling himself up a tree he watched Stiles, knowing it was creepy as hell and not even caring.

Derek had picked the right tree because Stiles stopped right in front of it. Derek stared at the back of his head, licking his lips when the boys hand pushed his hood back, ran his fingers through longer hair. A heavy sigh from the boy clad in red hurt Derek’s heart, and his breath caught at the pain he felt for Stiles. Having had enough of his creeping, he fell agilely from the branch he’d been perched on; landing almost noiselessly about ten feet behind the shoulders that caused him physical pain when he thought about them without clothes on.

“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?” He asked, knowing it was a bad pun and saying it anyway. Stiles spun around, almost screaming, until he noticed it was Derek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You gave me a heart attack! You ASS.” Stiles kept a hand on his chest, keeping track of his now jumpy heart. “What are doing? Did you follow me?”

“Not so much followed. More like ran across your pungent odor and couldn’t help but hear your stomping.” Derek’s eyes betrayed the teasing kindness. “Not to mention you’re just asking for it when you dress like little red riding hood.” Stiles frowned down at his hoodie and let his hand drop from his chest.

“Oh. I didn’t even think about that.” The smile on his lips was small but completely genuine. He wished that Derek would take his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket and wrap them around him. He wish and wished, but he knew in the back of his mind that he was the only one. He looked back at Derek, the silence awkward enough to break. “I should get back to my jeep.” He stated stupidly, and started walking towards Derek. As he passed him, Derek turned.

“I’ll join you.” He said. It wasn’t a question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek walked next to Stiles in silence for a few minutes. But he couldn’t help but note the heaviness. The small boy seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.  
“Are you okay?” He blurted. Like word vomit: it just happened. Stiles seemed as surprised as he was, probably because Derek had nearly shouted it.

“I’m okay.”

“Don’t lie to me Stiles.” Derek stopped walking. Suddenly, all he needed was Stiles to say the words ‘I’m not okay.’ To hear it, meant he could prove it. To prove it, meant he could fix it. And quite suddenly he realized that he really really really DID want to fix all the hurt in this young life. Stiles whirled around, a red blur even to Derek’s werewolf vision.

“Do you really want to know? Really? Because I don’t think you do.” Tears welled in brown doe eyes, and pink lips went white with pressure at being pushed together to keep from shaking. “No one does.” Stiles tried to turn and keep walking, but Derek’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Almost like he wanted to be stopped. There was a single moment of silence. A moment in which Derek’s mind went on a roller coaster ride.

He couldn’t lose Stiles. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep him but he couldn’t lose him. He was tired of losing people. He wanted to keep someone, wanted someone to be his, and wanted someone to WANT to be his.

“I really do.” Derek’s voice shook a little. He’d never admitted how much he cared out loud. Uttering that one sentence was enough. It carried enough weight, enough meaning, to fill ten lifetimes. Stiles swallowed, jarring a single tear from his eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles didn’t have the energy to wipe away the flood of tears that were falling. It was embarrassing that he’d have his breakdown right here in front of Derek. But he was broken. And that sentence, just three words, was the first step to healing, and his heart knew that.

“Do you ever feel alone?” Stiles thought it was a really dumb question for Derek to ask, because why else would he be crying in the middle of the woods to a werewolf that he only just got to the point of trusting. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved and only recently did I realize I was even still capable of that emotion.” Stiles was still confused as to how this was supposed to help him, or where it was going at all, but he stayed still, let Derek’s fingers squeeze his shoulder. “But I love the pack. They’re my pack, and they need me and I need them. I know you feel helpless because you’re not as powerful as all the crazy supernatural creatures around here but you make the pack strong and they make you strong. You are part of the pack, Stiles. They need you.”

Those last three words threw Stiles over the edge again. Funny, how three words could heal so much that was broken, lift all that had fallen, provide light for all that was in darkness. He fell forward, his knees giving out. He closed his eyes against the glaring sunlight of the afternoon as he fell. His teeth clattered when strong arms caught him and held him gently.

“I just want to go home.” He breathed.

Stiles woke up the next morning in his bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek sat idly on the roof of Scott’s house, watching the sun go down. Today, he’d decided to actually check up on the pack in person. As the last of the sun’s rays fell behind the tree line he tapped on Scott’s window glass, surprised that it was even closed.

“I don’t need to come in.” He stated as Scott pushed the window up. “Anything I should know?”

“Nope.” Scott said. “Funny scent, all over town, I can’t place it.” He shuddered involuntarily. “It freaks me out.”

“That’s your body reacting to the presence of so many alphas.” Derek’s voice was hard. “Since you don’t have one, your instinct will be to seek one. It’s going to be hard to resist.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Scott flung himself across the bed, his arms above his head. “Is that all you wanted?” Derek nodded. “Why do you smell weird?” Scott said suddenly, sitting up. “You smell like…like Stiles.” Derek didn’t say anything, only shrugged, before fleeing the rooftop. He knew Scott probably wouldn’t give it a second thought.

He checked up on Jackson next, and was unsurprised to find Lydia with him. He wasn’t having quite the same reaction to the influx of alphas as Scott was, but he could still tell. He seemed almost jumpy around Derek, and he knew that it was his wolf side wanting to remain with Derek at all times because of the alphas and his human side resisting.  
Erica, Isaac, and Boyd were all holed up at the train depot playing cards when he arrived. Derek took this to be a little unusual.

“Aimee is grounded.” Erica laughed and Isaac shot her a dirty look. “Her parents caught them…together.” Erica giggled and Isaac only frowned at the floor. Derek looked at all of them like he’d rather be human and not have to deal with this and started to walk out.

“Just…be safe.” He said as he turned around. The pack looked back at him, not used to him saying things with such kindness. “I don’t need to lose you guys.” He walked out before Erica could finish choking on her disbelief.

Derek’s last stop was Stiles. Since Stiles was technically part of the pack he owed him a visit too. Stiles window was open like he knew and he was starfished across his bed. He rolled to the side when Derek entered, hiding his face, and giving Derek only his back to talk to.

“How are you tonight?” Derek asked gently, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the young man’s bed. He laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He could feel the way his heart beat picked up and stuttered. He could smell the waves of need rolling off soft skin. Tracing circles across the gray t- shirt that Stiles’ wore, he didn’t wait for a reply. “I hope you’re doing better.” He said. “I want you to be better.” His voice shook. He stopped talking.

Rising from the bed he crossed the room again. With one leg over the window sill he looked back to see heartbreakingly beautiful brown eyes blinking at him from under covers. Stiles looked so much like a small child that Derek wanted to stop and scoop him up right there. He wanted to hold him, wanted to comfort him. He wanted to run his hands through chocolate hair, and trace circles on silky skin until the tears stopped.

“Stay.” One word reverberated around the room, seeming to echo off the walls. It wasn’t a question.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles was too tired to be surprised when Derek actually crossed the room for a third time. He accepted it when Derek threw back the covers on the bed and crawled in next to him. He lost it when Derek wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, tucking his head beneath the alpha’s chin. The tears came and the shaking sobs marked just how long this depression had been.

Stiles wrapped his hands around Derek’s where they were clutched at his chest. He could hardly breathe through his breakdown. Derek made comforting noises in Stiles’ ear, he rocked slightly, never letting go.

“I’m right here.” Derek’s stubble rubbed Stiles cheek, and those words rocked him. Powerful, they were like someone had opened up the universe. Failing at regaining control, a sound of pure anguish and slight relief escaped Stiles and Derek sat him up, so he could breathe. Stiles sank back against strong hands that rubbed circles on his back. He gave in to the arms that kept him from curling in on himself. Instead, Derek offered a place of escape. His chest was a perfect pillow and he didn’t mind his shirt being tear-soaked.

Eventually Stiles calmed down enough to lie down again. He was so exhausted he could barely move. This time though, it was a good tired. It was the kind of tired that meant you finally accomplished something and in a weird way, Stiles had. Derek didn’t mind that Stiles had to rub his feet together to fall asleep. He didn’t mind the skin on skin friction when Stiles’ foot rubbed his calf. He didn’t mind Stiles clutching onto him as he lie there, and he didn’t mind when Stiles got the hiccups.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles eventually apologized, though he wasn’t sure what for. Everything, maybe.

“Don’t apologize.” Derek’s lips moved against his forehead, “You’ve done nothing worth apologizing for.”

“I totally belong in a crazy house.” Stiles whispered. “I’m a total nut.”

“It’s okay.” Derek laughed lightly. “I don’t mind.”

Stiles fell asleep to the rise and fall of Derek’s chest under his cheek, and those last three words dancing behind his eyes. Of course he knew that Derek didn’t mind, but hearing it, that was the best part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek woke the next morning before Stiles. His heart was pounding and he didn’t know why. His arm was asleep from having Stiles head on his shoulder all night. His leg was cramped from where it lay tangled with the boys’ wiry ones. There was drool on his shirt, and Stiles was kind of breathing in his ear, and he could hear the Sheriff poking around downstairs and just hoped that he didn’t come to check on his only son before he went to work. Squeezing his eyes closed again he resisted the strong urge to leave.

Derek turned his head and let his eyes flutter open. He studied the young face he lay next to. Reaching over he used his finger tip to lightly connect the beauty marks on Stiles’ cheek. The arm that Stiles was laying on could bend at the elbow, and Derek used that hand to run fingers through chocolate colored hair. Not thinking, he pushed his lips against the skin of Stiles’ forehead, holding them there for a second, before pulling back slightly. He didn’t expect for Stiles to nuzzle into his neck, muttering something that Derek couldn’t make out. He wasn’t completely sure it had been words.

Turning onto his side, Derek continued the fingertip explorations of Stiles’ body; one finger down the pale skin of his arm, another down the curve of his waist, and a hand down his spine. Stiles’ was curved into Derek, his face in his neck and his knees touching Derek’s thighs. Derek let his hand fall in the space between them.

“You didn’t have to stop.” The whisper sent shivers down Derek’s whole body, raising goose-bumps on his arms. He’d been too lost in studying anatomy that he’d missed the tell-tale signs of a human body waking up.

Stiles straightened himself out, pushing himself against Derek, flinging arms and legs all over, and making quite a mess of both of their limbs in the process. Surprisingly, Derek laughed and Stiles smiled. He smiled a smile that lit up the room in a way Derek wasn’t expecting. He smiled in a way that no one had seen in months. Sighing, Stiles put his head against Derek’s chest, and curled his hands beneath his chin. Their legs were a tangled mess, and the blanket had slipped off onto the floor. 

Both of them laughed lightly, and Derek ran his fingers up and down Stiles’ side, his back, and through his hair. The boy reciprocated by rubbing his small feet against the skin of Derek’s calf, where his jeans had pushed up in the night. Stiles had done the same thing while falling asleep, and occasionally through the night Derek was awoken by the almost feline in nature habit. He assumed it was a comfort/pleasure response, and he was starting to enjoy the sensation.

“Your Dad won’t come check on you before he leaves, will he?” Derek whispered. The room was almost full of sunlight and neither of them had any idea what time it was. The Sheriff was still walking about downstairs but Derek hadn’t heard the cruiser start yet. Stiles shrugged but gave no answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In reality, there was a very real chance that the Sheriff would come check on him before he left for work. But in a weird way, he almost wanted his dad to find him with Derek. Nothing had happened, they were both fully clothed, and Derek was no longer a wanted criminal. And Stiles was ALMOST a consenting adult, so it’s not like there was any under-age thing to worry about. He was pretty sure his Dad had guessed about his wavering sexual orientation, or at least was on the fence. Stiles’ himself didn’t know. He was 17, how was he supposed to know anything? Thinking about being clueless, he wondered, since he kind of wanted this, would Derek? Currently, strong hands were tracing his spine and fingertips were massaging his scalp, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

What if this was just for now? What’ll happen when Derek leaves? What will the pack think? He’s part of the pack though so they won’t hate him, right? What will Scott think? What will his Dad do if he finds out? What will HE do if Derek doesn’t want anything from this? What will he do if Derek DOES want something from this?

“Are you okay?” Derek’s concerned tone broke through Stiles’ internal questioning. “You’ve gone all tense like you’re thinking really hard. And you have that crease between your eyes like you’re worrying.” Derek’s fingers tried to smooth out the crease, unsuccessfully. He’d pushed Stiles far enough away so he could see him. “Don’t do this to yourself.”  
Stiles knew exactly what he was talking about, but refused to admit it to himself. He had the unique ability to talk himself into a panic attack. Stiles could already feel the water rising around him, and his vision went cloudy for a moment, just like when you open your eyes under water and it takes them a moment to adjust. He’d drifted below the surface of the lake again, and although he didn’t want to be there he took the cold and the dark as part of his everyday life. Depression was like that. You didn’t want to be there, but you didn’t have the strength to leave.

“Stiles?” The Sheriff’s voice called out from the hallway. “It’s like 11 are you up yet?” Derek stiffened slightly where he lay and looked like he was going to bolt.

“Don’t move.” Stiles mouthed and Derek sank back down on the bed. He put his hands behind his head and crossed his bare feet at the ankle. Stiles shot upright and sat crossed legged on the bed, facing the door. The small of his back was just touching Derek’s side. He felt like he needed the contact to make any attempt at staying above water.

“Son?” This time his Dad knocked lightly on the door before opening it a crack. Letting it swing open all the way he sighed, and waved a hand at Derek. “Don’t any of your friends know how to come in the front door? Don’t try to lie, he came in through the window.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Stiles felt Derek’s thumb push against one of his vertebrae and tried to not let the small sigh it elicited sound too strange to his Dad.

Stiles’ Dad seemed to know that something was wrong with his son, in a bigger sense than just the normal teenage stuff. He’d seen the depression written in Stiles’ eyes before, and he hoped that he’d never go there again. Nodding, and holding up hands in defeat, the Sheriff closed the door to Stiles’ room.

“You can bolt now.” Stiles frowned, turning to Derek. Derek only stared at him with those eyes that seemed to change from green to hazel to the color of God knows what. Right now, they were a light green, pure, and almost glowing in the sunlight streaming through the open blinds.

“I wasn’t going to bolt.” Derek said calmly before standing and stretching. “But I do have a pack to check on. And you know… werewolf stuff.” He smiled at the last words, and walked around until he was just in front of Stiles, still cross-legged on the bed. Derek crawled onto the bed, and stood on his knees, holding Stiles face in his hands. Stiles let his hands fall on Derek’s wrists, wishing him closer. He knew that Derek could feel his heartbeat; he could smell all the subtle changes in his body. Derek probably knew what it meant, too.

Stiles hardly moved, only letting his hands fall from Derek’s wrists to around his waist. Derek wrapped his own arms around Stiles, before pulling back again and tilting Stiles chin up with one finger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek wondered how brown eyes could look so golden. He wondered how pale skin could look so warm in the sunlight. Stiles had let him hold him in one of the most vulnerable ways. To hold one’s face in your hands is a powerful moment. His own mother used to do that. She used to hold his face and say “I love you, Derek.” It was those moments when Derek felt least like a monster, least like he wasn’t in control. It was those moments that he felt whole. It was the moments, filled with love, an emotion that he’d thought he’d forgotten, that got him here today. And it was love that kept him grounded to Beacon Hills. His pack, his home, his memories, his Stiles.  
Derek’s finger held Stiles’ head titled back, and the boy hadn’t moved in all of Derek’s musings. Derek couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he just leaned down, just let their lips connect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles wondered what Derek was thinking when he looked at him like that, but he tried not to dwell on it. He focused on keeping his shoulders slack, his body relaxed, and his eyes on Derek’s. Before he knew what was happening, Derek had leaned down, his mouth an inch from his.  
Derek’s breath mingled with his, and he could feel Derek’s breathing hitch, almost like he was nervous. Stiles’ studied Derek’s face, lingering on eyes that had slipped closed in the proximity. Derek’s lips pressed against his quite suddenly, and at first Stiles was shocked. After a moment, he pushed back with urgent lips. His hands wrapped around Derek’s face, and Derek’s hands had moved back to cup Stiles jaw. This kiss felt like a breath of fresh air. Stiles had been so far under water that he didn’t even know which why the surface was, but this kiss pointed him in the right direction.

Derek pulled back, and a small whine escaped from the back of Stiles’ throat. It was not a sound that he had meant to escape, but it had encouraged Derek in a way that Stiles couldn’t fathom. Derek moved in for another kiss and Stiles fell back against the bed. Derek settled himself beside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek studied Stiles’ face. He looked like someone who had been trapped in darkness for months and was just now seeing the sun. He looked like someone who had been drowning and was saved, at the last minute. Maybe he had been.

Derek couldn’t imagine saving anyone. If anything, that was the one thing he’d always failed at. He’d lost his entire family, he’d almost lost his pack (and just one wrong move and they were gone and he knew that) and he always went for ‘just get rid of it’ instead of ‘save it.’ It was easier that way. That was the way with less feelings. He liked it that way.  
Letting his long arm fall over Stiles’ stomach he got his turn to nuzzle into someone’s neck. Stiles giggled a little and Derek smiled against the smooth skin. He didn’t want to, but he had to, so he pushed himself from the bed one more time and stood up.

“I really have to go this time.” He said, smiling at Stiles. Kissing his cheek, he pushed the window open and hopped down onto the rooftop, looking over his shoulder one last time at the boy he was pretty sure he might be saving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles stayed there on his bed long after Derek had gone. He still felt like he was above water. Not like he was drowning at all. It was still cold, but the darkness had subsided and he felt like he could swim. Instead of being in the middle of the lake, he could now see the shore, and there was hope.

He realized suddenly that this is what happiness felt like. Actual happiness. Maybe he was being saved. Maybe this is what he needed to pull him out of the depression and into real life. Derek was saving him. Inch by inch he was coming closer to the shallow water and it felt like the sun was rising on a beautiful shore.  
Depression really is like drowning. But all it takes is one person to swim out, one person to be your life boat. Stiles had found his one person.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Leave me comments. Go hard or go home.


End file.
